Viscount of Vanity by Tammy Andresen (beautiful books to read .txt) 📗

hour of chopping wood brought him little relief from the aching heaviness that had settled in his loins. And when he returned inside, he found her at the stove, once again making a meal for him.

A delightful-smelling concoction of beef and carrots.

She turned to smile at him over her shoulder. His breath caught as he looked at her. “Is there any wine about? My father would rarely allow me to cook with it, but I hear that red wine adds a depth to this dish.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I didn’t think to stock it.”

She gave a small jerk of her chin in acknowledgment. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted…” She looked down at the floor again. “I wanted the dish to be good for you.”

He let out a low grumble, deep in his throat. She was so kind and considerate, in addition to her other attributes, that he didn’t know how he might survive the next few days, let alone the rest of his life. “I am certain the dish will be delicious.”

She continued to cook, and he sat in a chair with little else to do but watch as she chopped and stirred, rich smells making his stomach rumble with hunger.

He’d worn himself out with the work, though he’d done little to stem the rising desire pulsing through his veins.

And as she once again set a steaming plate of food in front of him, he gave her a tight smile, trying not to look at her.

He ate instead as tender beef melted in his mouth.

Once the meal was done and the mess cleaned up, they settled in to read again. He should ask her about herself. Learn more. Because if he didn’t, there was little else to do but go to bed…

And that was sure to be a disaster.

A complete and total mess.

Chapter Five

Gabriella lay in the rather narrow bed hugging the very edge of the mattress, completely aware of the heat rolling off her husband in alluring waves.

Though he did his best not to touch her either, she was aware of every square inch of him. How could she not be?

He took up the vast majority of the bed.

For the third time, he looked over at her. “I can sleep in the other room.”

And for the third time, she looked back over at him. “Don’t be silly.” She understood his point. This situation was…uncomfortable. And she began to understand the compromise she was making in agreeing to this bargain.

It was her wedding night. She didn’t know much but she did know that the nuptials were supposed to be consummated. She’d heard whispers from other girls about pain, about intimacy, about men rutting.

She was certain this wasn’t what they’d been referring to.

And she had no one else to ask what exactly they had meant.

“Austin.” She turned over to look at his back. “Can I ask you a question?”

He gave the softest sigh, so quiet she might have missed it as he turned over onto his back. “Yes.”

She nibbled her lip, looking at his profile. “What exactly are…relations?”

She saw agony flash across his face as his eyes squeezed shut. “Something I’m trying not to think about.”

She wanted to ask why he wasn’t interested in them, but perhaps she’d tackle one topic at a time. “Why? Why are they so bad for you?”

He reached up a hand and scrubbed his face. “They’re not bad. In fact, most people partake rather zestfully. But…”

“Relations are how children are made?”

He looked at her then, his jaw a bit slack. “How old were you when your mother passed?”

“Twelve.”

He drew in a long breath. “So she explained none of this to you?”

“None,” she confirmed, propping up on an elbow.

He gave a low groan. Then he drew in a ragged breath as her own chest tightened with unease. She hadn’t wanted to ask but who else would tell her? With his hand still over his eyes, he pointed down. “I have a staff.”

“A staff?” She trailed her gaze down his body and that’s when she noticed the place where the covers rose up in a tent. “Oh!”

He let out a low growl. “And you have an opening.”

Her eyes grew wider. Something between her legs pulsed as though it were answering his words. Her own breath hitched, and her heart beat faster.

“I put my…staff in your opening and place my seed in your womb.”

It was her turn to cover her face with her hands. “No wonder sharing a bed is so awkward.”

That made him chuckle. “Normally on our wedding night we’d partake in the activity but—”

“You’re not interested,” she finished for him.

He looked over her. “Actually, I thought as we only met this morning, it might be nicer to get to know one another a bit more.”

She dropped her hand. “How…kind. But we will eventually partake in relations?”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

She wanted to ask again why he wished to avoid them, but this conversation had been difficult enough. “If you’d prefer to just get it over with…”

He choked a bit, going on his back and staring up at the ceiling. “No. Thank you.”

She reached out and tentatively touched his shoulder. “Thank you for being so kind. I appreciate it very much.”

He tensed under her bare fingers and shrugged away from her. “You’re welcome.”

She withdrew her hand, laying her head back down on the pillow. “I’ll rely on your judgment.”

He looked over at her then. “I sense a but at the end of that sentence.”

She shrugged. “It’s just that I find avoiding things I am dreading rarely makes them easier.”

He sat up then, running his hands through his hair. It had the interesting effect of making the strands stand on end.

The rumpled effect was devastating. It softened him, making him so handsome he stole her breath. Or perhaps it was the view of his back tapering down from the breadth of his shoulders.

“It’s not that I am dreading them, precisely,” he answered in a choked voice.

“What then?” she asked, sitting up too.

“It’s just that…” And then